Unnamedas yet
by HannahEccles
Summary: A "what if" fic. about Havelock Vetinari.


Unnamed.  
  
I wrote this fic. quite some time ago when we had to do a story for English. Warning: May be OOC or AU.  
  
I own none of the characters that come from the Discworld that happen to crop up.  
  
Chapter one:  
  
  
  
The woman jumped back as a carriage drew up close to her, stiking the whole right side of her body as a result and pushing her into the crowds.  
  
She lost her balance and hit her head on the cobblestones.  
  
* * *  
  
A face looked out of the carriage window, framed by red curtains.  
  
It wasn't the type of face that you would like to meet, even in broad daylight. It looked as though death would be an improvement.  
  
The face was pale, with blue veins running down the almost transparent skin. The contrast between this and his beard, eyebrows, hair and cloathes made a stark contrast.  
  
The lines running across his forehead and from nose to mouth and around his eyes told of his age, although his hair was jet-black and combed back across his head.  
  
Lord Vetinari looked out of the carriage window with its wooden frame trimmed with red velvet curtains.  
  
The item of interest was the crowd that had accumulated around his carriage, barring his way and impeding further travel.  
  
Apparently, according to the Palace Guard that followed him everywhere, his mode of transport had knocked someone down.  
  
He swung the door open and stood up, wincing slightly at the stabbing pain in his leg, and nearly stepped out on a woman sprawled out across the cobbles.  
  
He hastily withdrew his leg and tried to slow his heart down before he had a heart-attack.  
  
*  
  
The man was wearing a huge overcoat and playing the flute. He moved through the crowds like an otter sliding through water, he dipped and weaved through the throng , playing his flute as he did so and, occassionally, darting his hand out quickly and stowing something away in his coat.  
  
He slipped between a women build like an ox and a child who was built on the same lines, and halted.  
  
*  
  
"Looks like there's been a crash down there or some'ut."  
  
"Many casulties?"  
  
"I don't bloody well know do I? I can't really see with all these burks millin' around, can I?"  
  
Mrs Calme looked over the ledge of their three story flat and observed the scene.  
  
"That looks like Vetinari's carriage to me," she said, "he might be in a spot o' trouble now."  
  
"What for?"  
  
"Well.if he's knocked someone over then won't that. oh, I dunno.I suppose we can't really get rid of him really? Can we?"  
  
"I suppose so, unless he was the one knocked down."  
  
His wife smiled at him, in that way that a crocadile looks before it decides which limb to start dinner of with.  
  
*  
  
Lord Vetinari could feel his breathing coming out in short, audible gasps, and that was always a bad sign.  
  
But at least he had managed to get his heart beating at about the normal speed.  
  
He could feel something in the left side of his chest, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.  
  
He looked down at the woman before him and felt a very uneasy sickly feeling in his stomach. Ah, he thought to himself unsteadily, so I'm going to be sick instead, am I?  
  
However, to his imense relief, the sickly feeling went away, but the pain in the left of his chest dimmed to a dull ache and spread to his shoulder and arm.  
  
And now to deal with more than a hundred people staring at him accusingly and whispering to each other.  
  
"Err. Ah, good citizens of Ankh-Morpork." This didn't seem to go down very well.  
  
"Umm."He tried again as sweat beaded his forehead. His heart rate went up. A sharp pain rang in his chest and he couldn't breathe.  
  
He collapsed backwards into the cariage.  
  
*  
  
Back in the crowds, Salmozello had stopped playing the flute and had straightened up to watch the drama. He was actually quite tall and thin with close-set eyes and a very thin beard - in fact, he looked a bit like Vetinari.  
  
So..this was the story, he thought, Vetinari knocks over this woman, realizes what he's done, looks at the woman, and keels over backwards clutching at his chest.  
  
He smiled thinly, the day was definitely getting off to a good start.  
  
Mind you, he couldn't exactly blame Vetinari for having a turn like that, he would have probably done that if he'd trodden on that sort of mess.  
  
*  
  
Red, blue and purple sparks flashed in front of his eyes and the pain in his chest was tearing him apart.  
  
He was very faintly aware of one of his bodygaurds saying something to him and trying to unfurl him from his foetal position.  
  
As he sank graciously into unconciousness he could feel his breathing and heartbeat fading into the background.  
  
*  
  
Dougal bit his lip. He had been in his Lordship's service for year. There wasn't anything that he wouldn't do for him.  
  
He had once tried mouth-to-mouth resusitation in his training. But trying to imagine doing it to the Patrician was just.well.  
  
Well. he wasn't exactly first prize in a beauty contest, that's all.  
  
But. then again. think of all the awards that he'll get.  
  
In decision to this mental conflict, he laid Vetinari out on the cobbles - respecting the woman who was already there - put his lips to his Lordship's rather thin ones and blew gently into his mouth, ignoring the jeering and laughing of the crowd, removed his lips and pumped his Lordship's chest. He did this a few times until he was dizzy himself.  
  
*  
  
Pain was the first sensation.  
  
Pain throughout the body, shrinking and dwindling into one solitary point in the slight left of his chest.  
  
He opened his eyes and came face-to-face with Dougal with his lips still pressed against his own and his body very close, in fact, extremely close to Vetinari's.  
  
His eyes opened wide and darted here and there, looking for escape. He struggled against the bulk of the guard and Dougal lept back suddenly.  
  
The Patrician sat there for a while, his throat felt somewhat heavier, but as he brushed his hand against it he felt nothing but the cloth of his high- necked robe.  
  
"Wh." Lord Vetinari tried to speak but couldn't. His larynx burst with pain at the effort of speaking but he couldn't get a single word out other than a series of glutteral syllables.  
  
"Unn.Unk." He tried again.  
  
*  
  
Salmozello looked on all this with interest.  
  
Just watching the Patrician trying to talk was entertainment in itself.  
  
"Unn.Tik.Ulll." Every time that Vetinari uttered a syllable, he jerked his head forward as if his throat hurt every time he tried to say something. This made him look like a cockeral clad in dusty black.  
  
Why he was repeatedly doing this was all a bit of a mystery to Salmozello, all he knew was that Vetinari had collapsed into the carriage and presumably something had gone wrong beforehand.  
  
He looked down at the woman still lying on the ground, at least.he thought it was a woman, now he wasn't quite sure what gender the corpse was now. All the blood and squishy bits made it very hard to tell.  
  
He glanced around to check that the crowd's attention was fixed on the Patrician, picked up the corpse, and lurched off to find the river.  
  
*  
  
The crowds were laughing at him!  
  
They were pointing and jeering at him.  
  
He looked up at Dougal beseechingly and stood up.  
  
*Tried* to stand up anyway. In the end he had to comprimise, being bodily supported by his guard, who still seemed to be uneasy about something.  
  
They got about 50 metres before the guard collapsed as well, Vetinari, who had been leaning heavily on him, fell down as well on top of the guard, falling unconcious as he did so.  
  
*  
  
The crowds burst out in hysterical laughter now.  
  
Dougal somehow didn't think it was fair, he wasn't doing this all for anyone around him or even for Vetinari. He *really* wanted those rewards and medals.  
  
He pushed the Patrician of him and sat up. He looked at Vetinari's face, it had gone a very strange bluish tint on and around the lips, eyes and ears.  
  
He realised that he couldn't hear his Lordship's breathing any more. He checked the pulse. He knew that the Patrician had a very faint one at the best of times, but he checked it anyway and swore under his breath when he couldn't find it.  
  
He tried mouth-to-mouth resussitation in his desperation but Vetinari's pulse failed to show up again.  
  
Oh f-k, he thought, I've killed the bloody Patrician. 


End file.
